


Christmas Eve Eve

by sariane



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, M/M, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-16
Updated: 2012-01-16
Packaged: 2017-10-29 15:46:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/321533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sariane/pseuds/sariane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius is intent on making Remus' Christmas the best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Eve Eve

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for a friend on tumblr.  
> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I’m not gaining profit from this.

_Wednesday, December 23rd, 1977_

Remus wakes up on Christmas Eve Eve (as Sirius calls it) to his friends standing over his four-poster, singing.

“DASHING YOUNG GRYFFINDORS,” Peter bellows.

James joins in, “STEALING HAGRID’S SLEIGH!”

“OVER THE GROUNDS WE GO,  
LAUGHING ALL THE WAY!  
HEADS OF SLYTHERINS FLY,  
MAKING HUFFLEPUFFS CRY!  
WHAT FUN IT IS TO CURSE AND JINX  
SOME RAVENCLAWS TONIGHT!”

Finally, Sirius joins in, bellowing the chorus.

“JINGLE BELLS, JINGLE BELLS!  
JINGLE ALL THE WAY!  
OH WHAT FUN IT IS TO RIDEOVERSNIVELLUSINA  
MAAAAAAGIC STOLEN SLEEEEEEEEEIGH!” he finishes with a flourish and a bow.

“MERRY CHRISTMAS!” they shout, so that Remus must press the palms of his hands to his ears to block out the head-splitting racket.

“It’s December 23rd,” he sighs weakly, sitting up and wiping the glorious sleep from his eyes.

“We are aware of that,” James frowns at the insult to his intelligence.

“Sirius’ idea,” Peter pipes up, and the man himself bows. “Since…”

Yes, since. The full moon falls on Christmas this year, and Remus isn’t glad to be reminded of it. He’ll be especially weak tomorrow, and even today he’s feeling grumpy and tired, despite the adventures that await him.

“Thanks,” he says hesitantly, deciding he should appear pleasantly surprised (and relieved that his presents are already wrapped). Sirius beams at him like a dog who just did a particularly impressive trick. Which, he supposes, is somewhat correct. To his horror, this grinning is followed by bounding onto his bed. Blushing when Sirius comes into contact with him, he scrambles away as quickly as he can.

“May I—?” he tumbles out of bed and disappears into the bathroom, just as a small knot of inexplicable dread forms in his stomach. So much for the peace and quiet of a nearly deserted castle.

* * *

The niggling dread (is it anticipation for the long full moon that awaits him?) stays with Remus throughout the day, whether they’re eating waffles in bed until noon or charming snowballs to fly at anything that moves on the grounds. Before they know it, some Fourth year Hufflepuff girls are nearly defeating them in the snowball fight of the ages.

“How are they so aggressive?” James shouts, his face red with a fresh hit as he ducks behind their hastily piled fort. “They’re 14-year-old girls!”

“Never trust a Hufflepuff!” Peter replies wisely, as if he knows from experience. Before Remus can ask, Sirius lets loose a loud roar and torrent of snowballs.

“It’s getting dark,” Remus says as he ducks behind the fort with James and Peter to hide from his icy doom.

“They aren’t mortal, Moony!” James yells with a panicked laugh in his voice, gripping Remus’ shoulders, “they can see in the dark!” He bursts into peals of insane laughter and throws a snowball at a blonde girl, who takes it to the shoulder and falls over, not from pain, but from laughter. Remus can see how the girls seem demonic.

“That’s it! Good, men!” Sirius pats them both on the back before ducking down behind the fort. “We shall die fighting!”

“You’ll need this,” Remus says gravely, handing Sirius a snowball. Sirius places a snowy mitten on his shoulder and looks deep into his eyes. His stomach twists at that look.

“Thank you,” Sirius manages to say before bursting into insane laughter. “Cover me, Prongs!” He attempts to jump over their fort, partially collapsing it, and yells “FOR GRYFFINDOR!” before chucking snowballs at the giggling girls at an alarming rate.

“He’s finally lost it,” Peter sighs, after successfully hitting another of the girls and ducking behind the fort to join Remus. James is crouching at the side, flinging snow that goes wide and laughing as insanely as Sirius. “They both have.”

“Oh, Wormtail,” Remus shakes his head and peers over the fort at Sirius, white snow sticking to his black hair as he runs through the snow, yelling a battle cry. “Sanity was lost a long time ago.”

Darkness falls and they finally convince Sirius to call a truce before any of them get frostbite. They meet the giggling girls in the middle of the snowy battlefield.

“You have fought bravely, daughters of Hufflepuff,” Remus says with much bravado. There’s something about today that makes his friends’ energy contagious, even though he feels a distinct ache in his muscles. “We commend you, worthy opponents.” The girls burst into titters again, bowing to him specifically before running back to the castle.

“Well, at least we know why they fought so hard,” James says, nudging Remus in the ribs. “Younger women, eh?” He blushes, face hot against the frigid air. Peter says something that makes the other two lunge for snowballs, but Remus isn’t listening to their playful banter anymore.

He stops in the middle of the pathway, staring up at the white snowflakes tumbling from the sky.The lights of the castle highlight the snowflakes brilliantly as they fall. He feels almost as if he’s falling into the skies.

“Come on,” Sirius says, grabbing his arm and pulling him away from his reverie, through the snow, and into the castle.

 

* * *

 

Later, they sit around the nearly deserted common room fire with a pile of presents, the red fading from their noses and cheeks. Remus looks from James’ hungry face to Sirius’ strange expression and clears his throat.

“We are going to do this in an orderly fashion,” he says clearly. “Clockwise. Starting with Peter. One at a time.” This leaves James last (the glare punctures his very soul), but he’s trying to avoid complete chaos here.

Peter absolutely tears through his presents, thanking Remus for the book with that trained politeness that mothers teach their children to use when they’re ungrateful. The hamster ball that he unwraps from James is met with much more laughter.

Remus is next, and utterly delighted to receive Beatrice Bestia’s Guide to the Magical Creatures of the British Isles and a box of dog biscuits from Peter, and the newest edition of A History of Eastern Magical Societies by Bathilda Bagshot and chew toy from James. He’s glad that they listened to his requests this year. Well, sort of.

“What, no flea collar?” he laughs.

“Ooh, Kinky,” James snorts.

Sirius’ gift is smaller, wrapped painstakingly in red paper with a golden bow. When he tears off the wrapping paper, revealing a small black box, he looks up at Sirius’ impatient face.

“It’s not going to explode, is it?” he jokes.

James swears and makes a face. “I forgot!”

But there is no explosion when he opens it, but a gold pocket watch. Engraved on the back are his initials, and when he opens it, the planets of the traditional magical watch spin and sparkle. James lets out a low whistle, but Remus can’t tear his eyes from the watch.

“I knew you were disappointed you didn’t get one for your birthday,” Sirius says quietly, so that only James and Peter can here. Remus’ ears turn bright red. His birthday was in early September and his parents had bought him secondhand books. They couldn’t afford the traditional watch that was given to wizards when they came of age.

“I can’t, Sirius, this is too—”

“Shut up,” Sirius says, throwing a wadded up piece of wrapping paper at him. He opens his mouth to say something else, but Peter, not wanting to be left out, throws some wrapping paper back at him. Before long they are covered in scraps of bright paper. James and Sirius open their presents (for Dilybert’s Dark Defense Dictionary and Christmas bells, and The Maximal Manual of Magickal Mapmaking by Melody Williams and Dribble’s Doggie Breath Curing Mints) andthank Remus politely before bursting into laughter.

“I’m not a reindeer,” James says indignantly, but Remus is preoccupied by Sirius, who is leaning into his face and breathing into his nose.

“Are you saying something about my breath, Moony?” he chuckles. Remus squirms underneath him, thinking oh god no not now get off please, face turning red as Sirius crushes him.

“Sirius, you’re crushing me—” he says, his voice breaking, and Sirius finally allows him personal space. Remus says a silent prayer of thanks and looks at his friends, sprawled out amongst bows and shredded paper.

“Merry Christmas, Moony,” James says, stretching out on the couch and shoving his feet into Peter’s face.

“Yeah, Merry Christmas,” Peter echoes, “and a Happy Smelly Foot.”

Remus manages a weak laugh for Peter’s benefit and curls up in his favorite chair in front of the fire. He watches Sirius lie on his back on the rug and wave his wand absently, making snow fall from the ceiling.

“Oi!” a 6th year girl yells from across the common room. She abandons her studying and stomps off to the girls’ dormitory, causing hi-fives all around.

“And that’s the last of them! The common room to ourselves… Merry Christmas indeed,” Sirius chuckles. “Did you send your present to Evans, Prongs? I bet she’s been crying in your absence.”

James jumps up and swears loudly. “It’ll take a day to get there!” He rushes upstairs suddenly and returns a few minutes later, carrying a hastily wrapped parcel and a worried expression.

“My owl’s gone!” he says, running his hand through his hair. “Can I use—”

“Fine,” Peter growls, standing up and crossing his arms. “Let’s go to the Owlery.”

The two disappear out of the portrait hole, leaving the common room significantly quieter. Remus basks in the peace, the warmth of the fire , the feeling of being content and comfortable while snow frosts the windows. He takes a deep breath and leans back in the chair, closing his eyes.

“Moony?” Sirius says suddenly, breaking his reverie for the second time today.

“Yes?” Remus sighs.

“What does ‘anopisthographic’ mean?”

“It’s when something only has writing on one side.”

“Thanks.”

A moment passes, and he tries to settle back in his chair.

“Moony?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s an ‘eroteme’?”

“Uh…A question mark.”

“Thank you.”

This time, only a minute passes.

“Moony?”

“What, Sirius?” He sits up, looking down at Sirius, who is reading The Maximal Manual of Magickal Mapmaking by the firelight.

“How old is this book? Can’t they just say ‘question mark’?” With a groan, Remus lowers himself to the rug beside Sirius and gently takes the book. Turning to the copyright page, he squints at the date.

“About 100 years old.” Sirius makes a low whistling noise. “Next year, I’m getting you a dictionary.” Sirius chuckles.

“Did you have a good Christmas?” Sirius asks in an unusually quiet voice, taking the book back and closing it.

“It was nice,” Remus shrugs, leaning back on the rug to stare at the few spare snowflakes that are still falling. He pulls out his wand and reverses the charm.

“How nice?” Sirius shifts into a comfortable position next to him, his head resting on his hands.

“6 of 10 stars,” he shrugs. Sirius doesn’t respond. Remus closes his eyes, pretending he isn’t there, pretending that Sirius Black isn’t lying beside him, black hair spread over the red carpet, eyes sparkling with the fire, face lit with the shadow of a frequent grin.Then Sirius takes a deep breath and Remus stiffens slightly, afraid to move and accidentally brush against him.The fire cracks, sending sparks flying up into the chimney. Now, Remus can feel Sirius’ body heat radiating off him, smell the distinct scent of wood smoke,wet dog, and even old book on him. They’re so close now. Too close. They’re brushing together where they lay, just slightly, and Remus wonders if this is okay. If it’s okay to have Sirius next to him, breathing, minding his own business while Remus breathes in his scent. Does he have the right?

It’s like agony, trapped, just lying there. He’s afraid to move, lest he bump into Sirius or invade his personal space in some other way. So they lie there for long minutes, until the fire dies down and Sirius turns on his side, looking at him. Remus hesitates before turning on his side, too, wondering what Sirius is doing.

“Thank you,” Remus whispers, for he doesn’t know what else to say.

“For what?” Sirius’ eyebrows knit together.

“For this Christmas. For the watch. For…everything.” There’s more he could say, but Sirius seems to understand now. He nods and just stares at Remus long enough so that he can watch the fire crackling in Sirius’ grey eyes. It’s not fair, he thinks, it’s not right that he look into Sirius’ eyes and stare at him when Sirius might not want him too. It’s taking advantage, it’s ruining his friendship, and Remus doesn’t want to sit here and wish any longer.

Sirius takes a deep breath to start, “Moony—”

“Good night, I think,” Remus says, standing up suddenly. Sirius freezes.

Remus leaves him on the rug in front of the hearth and retreats quickly to the dormitory, gathering his books into his arms, and shoving Sirius’ watch into his pocket.

“Moony!” Sirius tears after him, cornering him at the bottom of the dormitory stairs and darting around him to block his path.

“Sirius, what are you—?!”

“Shut up, Remus, just…let me speak!” he says suddenly, waving his hands up and down frantically, and Remus takes a step back. “All I wanted was to show you was that, since this is the last Christmas we might all have together, you will always have me as a friend.” He runs a hand through his too-long black hair, a nervous habit he’s picked up from hanging around James too much. “I’m sorry, for…everything…but, I…Merlin’s beard,” he buries his face in his hands.

“What are you—?”

“Look, there’s mistletoe,” Sirius blurts, pointing up. Can I just kiss you now or would that be inappropriate?”

Remus’ books tumble out of his arms and suddenly Sirius is there in place of them, looking scared half to death, leaning down and kissing him. Remus freezes for the moment that it takes his mind to catch up, and then he stands on his toes and kisses Sirius back. His toes are throbbing, but not as much as his racing heart, as his hands tangle in Sirius’ hair and Sirius’ hand clutches at the small of his back. The kiss has all of the feeling of flying without the dangers of brooms or motorcycles.

The moment passes and they step away from each other, taking shaky breaths.

“Merry Christmas,” Sirius whispers, taking Remus’ hand in his own and pecking Remus on the cheek. He blushes furiously, the mark from Sirius’ lips searing at his skin.

“Padfoot,” he says in an embarrassingly breathless voice, “this Christmas — was the best.”

“Really?” Sirius brightens.

“Yes,” he leans down to pick up his books and sets them on the nearest table. With a mischievous wink, he adds, “But we still haven’t stolen Hagrid’s sleigh.”


End file.
